By The Oak Tree
by wibblywobblywesteros
Summary: Robin Hood retelling for the Viking age. Includes, violence, slavery, and romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Ireland 866 CE**

The warm blood ran down Maerinn's left hand which held the dagger, while her right hand gripped the head of the sheep. She had done the deed quickly, efficiently, as many times before but she still never enjoyed killing one of her flock. The ram would provide several meals for the clan and the wool hide would be used to make a cloak for winter. She finished bleeding out the sheep and began to gut it. A cool wind blew over the yard and Maerinn wiped her brow and surveyed the round houses that made up the homes of her clan in the distance. A twig snapped to her right and she turned her attention to that direction.

"You haven't got to do that," Brion's voice reached her before she actually saw him. His figure, red haired a short stocky build, was obscured in the shadow of the nearby oak tree.

"Yes, I do," she argued firmly. "I might as well be of use somehow. You said so yourself."

"Maerinn I...I never meant that and you know it," he said gently, stepping out into the light.

"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You were right. What good is a wife if she can't have children?" she asked bitterly, her eyes fixed at the blood on her hands because she was unable to look at him.

Brion sighed. "Please do not begin this argument anew, sister. I had only meant to warn you but it was a stupid thing to say...your husband has another wife for giving him children. You have given him something else. You have given him wealth. Your herd of sheep is the largest in all the countryside and the wool you produce brings more profit than a dozen children."

Maerinn wiped her bloody hands in the grass and turned to face him. "And what if it doesn't? What if my sheep take a sickness and die? Or a fire destroys my stored wool before I can sell it? What is to stop my husband from selling me off then when I am of no more use to him?"

"I am. I am to stop him," Brion said firmly as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You are the daughter of a chieftain, the daughter of a king. Aiden needs the allegiance of our clan. His own family is too small for him to risk angering us. Your husband knows that."

"He does…" Maerinn nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She was doing all she could to convince herself that her brother spoke the truth all the while knowing somewhere deep down that Brion was wrong. Aiden would sell her if he had the right opportunity. He didn't care for her the way he cared for his other wife Bridget. "But he is not exactly a wise man."

"No he isn't. Perhaps his stupidity will work in your favor," Brion suggested. "Let me help you finish dressing this ram and then you will come and visit Da and I for a fortnight?"

"I don't know if Aiden will allow it," Maerinn said, unsure.

"He'll have to. Da is ill. That's why I came to find you."

"Da is ill?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"Not that ill. He's not on his deathbed. He could use your help to heal him though. You have always been good at that."

Brion helped Maerinn complete her butchering and dressing of the ram. He was her elder brother by only a year and though they had three other brothers and Brion had a wife and five children of his own, he had always been close to his only sister. For the entire nine years since she had married Aiden, Brion had been walking the three mile journey to come visit his only sister every week. Since her husband no longer held any affection for her, and Bridget his other wife was rude and condescending whenever she could be, Maerinn depended on these chats with Brion to keep herself sane. He was her real family and her only friend.

When they had finished the work, Brion slung the carcass of the ram over his shoulder. He was a strong man and always had been. Maerinn gathered up the woolen hide as well as any intestines that they could make use of and followed him to the houses.

"What's he doing here?" Bridget emerged from the doorway of her house as they reached the common yard. She carried a toddler on one hip and a basket of laundry on the the other.

"He's bringing you supper," Maerinn gave as explanation. She tried to keep the irritation out of her tone. If Aiden were near enough to hear he never liked to hear his wives argue and it didn't take much to set Bridget off.

"Mutton again?" Bridget asked, still sounding unhappy.

"Oh no, this is veal. I've brought a miniature deer," Brion said good naturedly. He had always had a good sense of humor and didn't let melancholy people dampen his spirits in the least.

Aiden came out into the yard just then and surveyed the scene. "Brion, I trust all is well with your father and brothers?"

"My father has taken a chill," Brion told him. "I'd like Maerinn to come back with me and care for him for a time."

Aiden didn't look pleased but he nodded his agreement all the same. "Duncan will tend the flocks," he said, indicating his eldest child and only son by Bridget.

The three mile journey to her old family home was taken on horseback. Maerinn brought very little with her by way of belongings. A few clothes, a dagger, a bow and quiver, were all she really needed. She was no expert warrior but was more of a hunter. The weapons were tools and nothing more. Brion carried a sword with him and had left his spear and shield at home.

They arrived at the small village that made up the homes of the family clan and Brion's children ran out to meet them. Maerinn jumped down from her horse and hugged each of them in turn. Amidst the children giggling and dogs barking in the yard she heard her Father's voice call out to her.

"So you haven't forgotten about your Da?"

"Never!" Maerinn broke away from the children and went to her father. He stood in the doorway of his house, his weight supported with the aid of a spear that he was using as a walking stick. "Brion said you were ill but...Da, you should be in bed!"

"I'm not that far gone yet. Come inside daughter and feast with us?"

So Maerinn joined her family for an evening of feasting. They had mutton and ale and bread and dried berries. More than that they had laughter and songs. The hour grew late. The children had fallen asleep as had Brion and his wife. Only Maerinn and her father remained awake. She had nearly nodded off where she sat at the table when the sounds of hoofbeats running towards them startled her awake. They were coming closer. A voice was shouting something but she could not make out the words. Worried, Maerinn got to her feet and cracked open the door. The sound of hoofbeats became louder. The voice became clearer.

"The vikings are coming! The vikings are here!"

Maerinn stood overlooking the carnage unable to move. In the valley below everything was burning. The houses were burning, the field was burning, the trees were burning. Her sheep were nowhere to be seen. Probably dead or stolen. She had remained hidden during the entire raid. Brion had insisted and she had been too terrified to argue but now looking at the scene before her she couldn't help but wonder if hiding had been the wrong choice.

"I found Aiden," Brion said, coming alongside her. "They didn't kill him. He was stabbed in the shoulder but he'll live."

Maerinn glanced over at her brother. He was bruised and bloody himself. "And Bridget?" she made herself ask.

"I don't know. I didn't see her. Aiden won't even speak to me. He's...he's...I fear this has broken him."

"Where is he?"

"At the east well. I think he waits for you there," Brion told her.

Maerinn nodded. "I will go to him. I will come and see you at dawn tomorrow brother."

She took the wooded paths to the familiar well where she had sometimes drawn water for her flocks. Aiden sat there on a rock. As she approached him from behind she could see that he was slumped over, despondent.

"Aiden?" she reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch and she removed her hand. "Aiden, are you hurt?"

"No. No I'm fine." he said, pain unspoken in his voice.

"And what of Bridget and the children?" she asked warily.

Aiden gave no reply.

"Aiden?" she prodded gently.

"Leave me," Aiden replied tensely but so quiet that she could barely hear.

His tone frightened her and she took a step to leave him as he had asked. She had barely turned away from him when she felt his hand grip her wrist tightly. He pulled her closer to keep her from leaving and for a moment Maerinn thought that he might hug her. Maybe Aiden had finally reached a point that he would seek her comfort. Aiden did no such thing. He drew his sword and held it to her throat.

"This is your fault," he said, more angry than she had ever seen him.

"No...no...it's not...what happened? What are you talking about?" she pled, knowing that he had lost all rationality,

"Duncan was defending your flocks. My only son! It should have been you!" he screamed, spittle getting on her face as he did so.

"I'm sorry…" she said, her jaw trembling. This could be the end. Aiden could very well kill her over this. "But the Vikings kill whoever they can. I am not to blame for their barbaric ways."

"You know what else the Vikings do?" he sneered. "They trade in slaves"

In that moment Maerinn knew what he meant to do with her. He wasn't going to kill her. He was going to do something far worse. Her flock, her only wealth was gone, and she was never going to give him a son to replace the one he'd lost. Aiden had no further use for her. "My father would never forgive you," she told him. "He and all four of my brothers would avenge me."

With the sword still at her throat Aiden knelt down a picked up a coil of rope from the ground. "There will be nothing to avenge," he cut the rope with his blade and tied a length of it around her wrists. "My children are gone. My wife is gone. And I have a bit of rope for both of us."

Maerinn was unsure what he meant until after she was tied up she watched him begin to make the rest of the rope into a noose. "You don't have to do this. Please?"

"We are going to Dublin. Once you are sold I will end it."

"You'll go to hell," she told him.

"I expect I will. Or are you trying to say you suddenly care for my soul?"

"No, I am saying, go to hell."


	2. Chapter 2

Nottingham 867

The chapel was small and quiet. Not at all like the large buildings of the church they had in Canterberry. Robyn liked the small chapel with its simple wooden benches and humble unornamented alter. It reminded him that the work of Christ was a work of grace and not an act of pompous clergy. He stood in the doorway at the back of the chapel. His longbow slung over his shoulder, his quiver of arrows hung from the other shoulder and he waited. It didn't take but a few minutes for the clergyman to enter the chapel from the door behind the altar. He was young, of not more than twenty six years of age, the same age as Robyn. And the clergyman was fit and muscular as any man of his age. The robed man stopped short at the sight of Robyn.

"Tuck!" Robyn cried out, a huge grin spread across his face.

"Robyn…they told me you were dead," the man broke into a smile of his own as he approached Robyn with disbelief. "But praise be to God, you are alive!"

"I am indeed," Robyn clasped Tuck into a bear hug. "No number of Danes could keep me from returning to my favorite cousin."

Tuck pulled away from him after a moment and surveyed Robyn. "You have a new scar," he observed of the scar on Robyn's eyebrow.

"Tis fair enough since the Dane who gave it to me no longer has life." Robyn replied, still in good spirits. "And look at you cousin, you've gotten stronger."

Tuck shrugged almost bashfully. "The Bishop tasked me with brewing ale for the Monastery. Seems all I do is carry barrels of ale into the cart and out of the cart and up the stairs and down the stairs. I don't mind much. Any task in the service of Christ is a worthy task."

"I don't suppose you get to drink this ale?" Robyn asked, only half in jest.

"Oh yes. As much of it as I like on the condition that the people of the parish never see me drunk."

"Then you'll share with your favorite cousin!" Robyn clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh.

"Of course. This way," Tuck led the way out the door behind the altar down a set of narrow stairs into a cellar filled with barrels and brewing equipment. Tuck found three mugs and dipped a pitcher into an open barrel. He passed one mug to Robyn and kept two for himself. "And how fares our Lord King Edmund?"

"The same as always," Robyn said evasively as he drank.

"That tells me nothing. You are the one who knows him. You're a member of his household guard. The Captain of his household guard. You see him every day and yet you always refuse to speak about him. Why is that? Is he an evil man?"

"No," Robyn said bitterly. "He is not an evil man. He is quite the opposite. He is the most godly man I have ever met."

Tuck became somber at those words. "You fear you will never be worthy of serving him."

Robyn made no reply and instead downed his mug of ale. "How is Aunt Lizbeth? I trust she is well?"

"My mother is fine. Everyone in the village had a terrible cough and she avoided catching the sickness at all and instead brought healing herbs to the sick. She was blessed by God."

"Indeed," Robyn agreed.

The pair of them sat drinking and catching up on the local news well into the evening until the both of them fell fast asleep with an empty ale mug in their hands.

Gisburn 867

The Danes had come too quickly to defeat their invasion to his lands. They surrounded Guy's meager fortress in the dead of night. Guy stood on the wall of castle overlooking the heathen troops with their torches and shields and spears and found that he was unsure of what to do next. The castle could not hold them out. It wasn't really a castle but merely a walled courtyard surrounding peasant cottages and his own stone house. The walls were made of stone near the gates but in other areas were made of mud or wood and sometimes the wood was only standing sticks in rows. Guy was not a wealthy enough Earlman to repair the walls as they should be. By morning the Danes would learn of the weaknesses in the walls and his village and his people, all two hundred and eighteen of them, would suffer great violence or death.

"Danes!" he called down to them. "I am Guy of Gisburn. Which of you is the leader? I wish to speak of peace!"

A single Dane stepped out from the heathen troops. "I am Ragnar Lodbrok. There is to be no peace. Today there will be only Victory or Valhalla!" he shouted. His words were followed by a chorus of cheers from his men.

"Yes, you will have victory," Guy called down to them. "Of that much I am sure. But is your choice if this victory will be gained at the cost of some of your men's lives or none of them."

"My men have no fear of death," Ragnar called back. "Your words are a coward's words."

"I do not fear death for myself. If you wish to execute me and give my people their freedom I would accept those terms. What price can I pay that my people may escape with their lives and I will pay it?" Guy knew he did not have the wealth that they probably wanted but perhaps he could make them believe he did if only it gave them time to escape some other way, any other way.

Ragnar scratched his long braided beard as he thought about Guy's offer. "You have ale and and livestock and spears?" he called out.

"I have all of those things my lord!" Guy shouted in return. "Some seventy eight barrels of ale and a few hundred spears and sheep!"

"We will take them all, and your lands and you Guy of Gisburn will come down here and renounce your Christian God and swear yourself to my service!"

Deny Christ? Guy did not like this offer. He was not a pious man and never had been but people expected certain things of a Lord. This would destroy his reputation but it would save lives and perhaps that would be worthwhile in the end. "I have your oath that my people will be allowed to remain here unharmed?" he asked, knowing how the Danes felt about oaths. If Ragnar promised it, the thing would be as good as done.

"I will do as you ask, Ragnar of Lodbrok," And Guy of Gisburn took the path to the gate to go out and meet the Danes.

At Sea 867

The chains rankled raw on Maerinn's wrists and ankles. Her companions in the belly of the ship fared no better than she did. She had hoped that the ship would be an improvement after months in a cage in Dublin waiting to be taken to the slave market and sold to Arabs. The cage had been full of Irish women like herself. Some were only children, barely women at all. The men who kept them had barely fed them and at times had removed one or two women from the cages to take to their own beds to meet their more beastal needs. The first time a Viking had selected her to be his companion she had put up a fight, and lost. Ivar the Boneless had been too strong for her. He had however, been amused by her spite and had selected her three more times before it came time to board the ships and go to market. The ship was not the improvement she had hoped for. The slaves sat in crowded conditions with the oarsmen. Ivar barked orders on the deck above.

Exhaustion borne of hunger caused Maerinn to drift in and out of sleep for days. Days melted into weeks until Ivar was standing over her unlocking her chains.

"We've reached land. I'm going to meet my brother Ragnar Lodbrok and help him take the Anglo towns. You'll go with me. You're mine now." He unlocked the last of the chains, took her arms and hauled her to her feet.

"But what about Dedre and Kaela?" she asked, barely able to stand but still worried about the women who had become her friends.

"They will be sold to some other heathen I suppose," Ivar said, yanking her closer to himself. She stumbled forward and landed against his chest. He grinned. "You were sold to me. We go to find my brother now. You will behave or you will be sorry for it."

She nodded, too weak to respond further. Ivar picked her up and carried her out of the ship. He waded along the shore onto dry land. A band of men, Viking men, waited for him there. Ivar dropped her carelessly on the beach and hugged one of the men.

Maerinn only understood bits of their language. She had learned much of it over recent months but some words were still unknown to her. She heard enough to know that they were to be traveling to the home of some Anglo coward. It was a home that they had taken some months earlier. They would go there, regroup, and begin to take more cities.

"You have brought a most beautiful slave with you, brother," Ragnar said, his attention turned to Maerinn on the ground. "She must have cost many coins."

"Eh, not so many," Ivar replied. "She is beautiful but they say she can not bear children. That is what her husband said when he sold her to the trader. She is wasted as a concubine to bear children on."

"But not wasted as a companion," Ragnar said, looking her over.

"No, not as that," Ivar agreed. He reached down a pulled Maerinn to her feet. "We have a long journey ahead. I will not carry you. Walk," he commanded, and Maerinn did her best to do as she was told.

Guy was not looking forward to the return of Ragnar and hosting his brother Ivar as a guest. The Danes had settled peacefully on his lands and his people had remained unharmed as promised but that did not mean that Guy welcomed their presence. He was thankful though that they remained unaware of his horde of coins that had been hidden since their takeover of his lands. He had been waiting for the right moment to take his coins and leave. He didn't know where he would go but there had to be somewhere, anywhere, that he could resume a peaceful life away from these heathens.

They came back to his lands before Guy could form a real plan on where to flee to. In truth they had been gone only hours and the idea of abandoning his people didn't sit well with him, so he had stayed in favor of waiting for a better time. The party of nine Danes rode into the open gates and several non Danes walked along behind them. They were all bound with ropes attached to the horses. They had to be slaves. Those godless heathens had brought five slaves back with them. Biting back his disgust, Guy went out of his house and into the courtyard to meet them.

"Guy of Gisburn!" Ragnar cheerfully jumped down from his horse. "I have brought back with me my brother, Ivar the Boneless! Is he not fearsome?"

"He is indeed fearsome, just as you have said my lord," Guy agreed, knowing it was what the Dane wanted to hear. "You have brought others as well?"

"Yes, you know these men. They left with me hours ago, or have you forgotten already?" Ragnar said.

"Of course…what I mean to say is, you have brought slaves…" he said uncomfortably. He wondered if these slaves had been plundered from his own neighbors, just Anglo-Saxon country peasants. The thought of it saddened him.

"We have! The three men will serve me and tend my horses and flocks. The big man there knows how to smith. And the woman, she will serve Ivar." Ragnar told him.

Guy tried not to stare at the lovely red haired woman. She was thin and dirty and looked rather terrified but somehow managed to stand tall and tried to hide her fear. Her eyes met his for a moment with a look of defiance. He understood, having wanted to defy his effectual captors many times in the past few months. There was nothing he could about his own state of affairs and even less he could do about hers.

"A feast has been prepared," he told them. "We anticipated your return and made a sacrifice to Odin. Come and eat."


	3. Chapter 3

At every meal she was made to serve Ivar. Every day she helped the english peasants with their chores, with cooking, and laundry, and tending of crops. Most nights he took her to his bed and all day every day Maerinn hated him. With every fiber of her being she hated him. Ivar was not kind. He was rough and bawdy and rude and demanding. Her life with Aiden had not been a pleasant one because Aiden was cold and distant but this...this horrifying existence among the heathens that had enslaved her and the English whose language she didn't yet understand, was far worse than what Aiden and Bridget had been.

She looked for ways to escape. The walls around this little village were weak in places. Perhaps at night while Ivar slept she could slip over the lower mudded walls and find a boat and go home to Brion. If Aiden had killed himself like he'd promised, then Brion would take her into his house. He was probably looking for her even now. Even if Brion and Da had guessed what Aiden had done with her, they wouldn't be able to find her. They wouldn't know where she had been sold to or even where to look. Her only hope was to escape on her own and get home somehow.

The englishman that they called Guy came out to where she stood in the yard. He took note of her gazing at the gates and shook his head sadly. Whatever words he said to her, they sounded almost kind. He was probably telling her that escape would be futile. She'd heard Ragnar and Ivar talking about Guy. They had called him a coward because he hadn't even tried to fight. Maerinn looked around at all the children running around the yard and knew that what he had done hadn't been cowardice. It had been very brave. He had saved these people.

"I must go," she told him in spite of knowing that he didn't understand her words. "I can not stay here. I need to see my brother and my Da again, even if they kill me."

Guy shook his head a second time and crossed closer to her. "If you run, they will kill you," he told her firmly.

"You speak Gaelic?" she asked with a gasp. No one had spoken her language in the three weeks since she'd left the slave ship and her ability to speak Norse was very limited. Finding someone who could speak her language was overwhelming.

"I speak many languages. Latin, Greek, Norse, and Gaelic," he told her. "And you, my lady, will be in great danger if you try to escape. I would not wish the Danes to harm you further."

"What would you have me do? I am not lady. I am only a slave. Even if I deny my God they will not send me home," she told him, defiantly.

"No, they will not," he agreed with her. "They will give you nothing unless you have something to offer them in return, as I did."

She looked to the gate again. "So when the time is right...I will try…"

"If you are determined to escape, I must tell you that the northwest corner has a gap where the stones have been knocked away. A man could not fit through but a woman of your size likely could."

She regarded him warily at this bit of information.

"It's not a trap. I will tell no one that you hope to escape and I have no way of knowing when you might try," he assured her.

"Why would you help me?" she asked, not seeing any reason to trust him.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Perhaps because helping you does not help the Danes. If it all I can do to defy them, I will do it." With that, he turned and went back to his house.

Maerinn didn't trust his motivations at all. Not based on the way he looked at her. Men had looked at her like that before and she knew what it meant. It meant that he wanted to take something that belonged to Ivar. She wasn't going to let that happen.

Nottingham

As much as Robyn loved serving his Lord King Edmund, he hated being present for meetings with Nobles. He tried to remain stoic at his place along the wall but he feared the boredom was showing on his face. This particular meeting involved arranging a marriage for the King's sister and Robyn had stopped listening to the particulars hours ago.

"We can't hold the wedding there," one of the lords said. The Danes have been raiding there for near a month, all thanks to Guy of Gisburn."

"No, you're mistaken," another lord spoke up. "The raiding Danes are coming in from the coast. The Danes at Gisburn have hardly left since he surrendered to them. They have remained in the village and have thus far refrained from pillaging."

"Well, it can't last," the first lord spoke again. "There is no way Gisburn has provisions for so many. They will set out for provisions soon enough and they will take them from the likes of us."

"That is why when you return home, you will fortify your keeps and ask the protection of the Lord," King Edmund told them. "As for the matter at hand, my sister would like to be married in the Abbey."

Robyn stopped paying attention again, his thoughts occupied with the likes of Guy of Gisburn, a man who harbored the Danes in his own home.

Gisburn

The hour had grown late and Guy's small hall was filled with the sounds of drunken feasting Danes. He had only drunk a little ale himself and watched with disgust as Ivar sat with his arm around a lowborn but rather pretty saxon woman. She had gone to the big Dane willingly enough and seemed to be enjoying his attention. Maerinn stood along the wall with a pitcher of ale as was her duty. Ivar seemed to have forgotten her. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe tonight she would have the chance to escape.

"And that's when I lifted my ax and I cut off his head!" Ivar finished his story with to roaring laugh.

Guy wasn't amused and had drunk just enough that he forgot to pretend to be impressed by the heathen's stories of conquest.

"You do not like my story?" Ivar asked, suddenly somber.

"Oh no, it was a very rousing tale. I think I have grown tired is all."

"Tired? No, I know what you need. You need a woman. That is why you never laugh. You should have a woman. Why do you not have a wife?" Ivar asked, as if the answer actually mattered to him. In truth, the Danes had come to realize that Guy was an educated man and in some small way they respected his knowledge.

"I had a wife. She died in childbirth three years ago," he told them truthfully.

The heathen man looked surprised and then even a little saddened on hearing this. Then he seemed to have an idea cross his mind and the excitement showed on his face. "Then you shall have another wife!"

"No...I don't…" he protested.

"Nonsense," Ivar disagreed firmly. "You have given us your hospitality and your wisdom while we occupied this place. That was not part of the bargain we made with you. The least we can do is make sure you go to a warm bed at night. Maerinn, come over here?"

Maerinn was at Ivar's side right away, pouring ale.

"What about this one? I could give her to you," Ivar offered,

Guy didn't know what to say. He didn't want to insult the Danes and he didn't want a slave wife. "She is very beautiful but she is a slave and I am nobility," he said carefully.

"I am the daughter of a chieftain," Maerinn spoke up, the first words she had ever spoken while serving at the table.

"You hear that? She is of Noble blood too," Ivar pointed out, amused probably because he was still drunk. "I tell you what Saxon. You take her for one night, try her out, and if you like her, buy her tomorrow as a wife." Ivar got up and stumbled away from the table, his arm around his new consort for support.

Maerinn stood next to the table gripping the ale pitcher so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Guy couldn't tell if it was fear or anger that had put her in this stance. Maybe both. Ragnar got up and stumbled away with a woman of his own, followed by several younger Danes.

"If you don't come with me Ivar is likely to hear about it," Guy told her.

She set the ale pitcher down on the table with a thud. Guy got to his feet and led the way to his chambers. He opened the door and sent Maerinn in ahead of him. He closed the door and sat in a chair in the corner to remove his boots. It never even occurred to him to ask Maerinn to do it. He just removed them himself without a second thought. He bent forward and pulled a footstool from beneath his bed and took one of the blankets off the bed for himself. Once he had settled in the chair with a blanket and his feet on a stool he realized that Maerinn still stood on the far side of the room watching him warily.

"Take the bed. Sleep. No one will touch you this night," he told her.

Maerinn climbed into the bed without a word and covered herself with the other a blanket. She placed a pillow over her head and in spite of the pillow being there to muffle the sound Guy was still all too aware that Maerinn cried herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Maerinn awoke the next morning in the bed of Guy of Gisburn and found that he was still asleep in the chair at the bedside. She watched him sleep for a short while. As men went, Guy was one of the handsome ones. He was muscular from the work he did around the keep alongside peasants who kept the land. He had sandy brown hair and kind gray eyes. He was reserved in temperment it seemed but not in the cold distant way Aiden had been. Guy's reserve seemed to be simply that he preferred to observe people and make careful calculated decisions. At least that is what she guessed from only living in the village of Gisburn for a mere month.

"You are awake," Guy said as sleep finally left him. He reached for his boots and pulled them back on again, still sleepy.

"You did not need to sleep in the chair for my sake," Maerinn told him on seeing how stiffly he moved from sleeping upright. "You might could have as easily ordered me to sleep on the floor, or shared the bed," she pointed out, wondering why he hadn't.

"No, I could not have," he said, giving no explanation.

He got to his feet and pulled a new tunic from the wardrobe. Maerinn tried not to watch as he stripped off the one tunic and replaced it with another but she ended up watching anyway. He turned and found her gazing at him. He stopped short a moment then reached for his belt and sword.

"What will you do with me?" Maerinn made herself asked.

"What do you mean? I will do nothing with you. Ivar will expect you to return to him today."

"I don't want to return to Ivar," she said softly.

Guy stopped adjusting his belt and met her eyes. "I know," he said sadly. "Even if I had the means to buy you from him, I don't have the means to keep you safe from him. He'll still be here along with his horde. We're outnumbered. There's nothing I can do."

"That's not true…" Maerinn said almost to herself more than to him. The fact was, he had already done a great deal for her.

Guy moved towards the door and then stopped again. "You are the daughter of a chieftain?"

"I am," she told him.

"A wealthy chieftain?"

"I suppose."

"Wealthy enough that if I were able to buy you from Ivar, your father would repay me for all my trouble?"

"If you returned me to my father unharmed he would pay you back for all your trouble, I swear it." Her clan cared for her and would give whatever wealth they could to get her back, that much she knew to be true.

Guy took in her words and then he nodded. "I will see what I can do. Wait here while I go speak to Ivar."

"I will wait," Maerinn agreed, and she sat on the bed and waited for what seemed an eternity.

Guy had to do a small but simple task before he was ready to speak with Ivar that morning. The first thing he did was go to a place in the stone wall surrounding the village where he knew there would be a loose stone. He pulled the stone free and removed the large sack of coins in the space behind it. He then poured half of the coins into another sack and put half the coins where they had been before in the wall. The other sack he brought to a tree behind his house. He climbed as high as he dared and then tied the sack securely to a branch.

He found Ivar in the yard with Ragnar and several of their friends.

"You were right," he told Ivar. "I have been too long without a wife. Maerinn doesn't want me though. She put up quite a fight before I could take her. Maybe you would allow me to leave long along enough to arrange a marriage match with the lords of Northumbria?" He proposed the idea knowing that they wouldn't allow it.

"The lords of Northumbria aren't going to give you their daughters. You haven't got any land," Ivar pointed out a little too merrily.

"Good point," Guy looked down at his feet, taking care to sound ashamed. "What if I could give them something else?"

"You haven't got anything else except your educated head. If you like I could take it off and bring them that."

"Maybe I do have something else. When you came here you asked for my livestock and land. I have more than that. Let me leave and come back with a wife?" He asked a second time.

"What else have you got? You aren't going anywhere until you tell us what it is," Ragnar spoke this time, threateningly

"It's not much, it's just a few hundred coins is all." Guy told them. He had known they would ask and he had carefully planned how he would handle this.

"My good man, there's no need for you to go running off all over the country looking for a wife," Ivar said. "We have women aplenty right here. I would sell you Maerinn for a good price. Just tell me where your coins are and she's yours."

"She doesn't want me," Guy argued. He had to make them believe he didn't want her so that they would try all the more to be rid of her no matter the price. They had amused themselves with tormenting him on many occasions.

"She doesn't want anyone at first. Give her time and she will like you just fine."

"Maybe I will wait until your trader returns with other slaves to choose from," Guy suggested.

"You will do no such thing!" Ivar was growing impatient. "You will give me your coins and I will give you Maerinn or else I will give you my spear, do you understand?"

"I understand," he said, taking a step back as if he were afraid of them. In truth Guy wanted the Danes to believe he feared them and had him under control because it worked to his advantage to let them believe it.

"Take us to your coins."

"For nothing? At least let me buy something with them?"

"Eh, you can have Maerinn for them. She will make a good enough wife for the likes of you."

Guy brought them to the tree and pointed up. "I have hidden them up there," he told them almost unwillingly.

Soon they had sent someone up to retrieve the coins. The Danemen looked over the coins and counted 327 of them before turning to Guy, "It is settled. You now have a wife who will bear you many heirs to the lands to no longer have." They laughed and left him standing at the base of the tree.

Guy watched them leave with a sigh of relief. He now had a place to flee to when he finally found the chance to leave this place. He would go to Ireland with half of his coins and the daughter of a chieftain. And maybe if he were very very fortunate the chieftain would reward him with lands to start his life anew. If not, he would take his profits and travel to Rome. The Danes would not be able to reach him there.

Maerinn waited anxiously for Guy to return. She didn't want anyone buying her or selling her. All she really wanted was to go home. With Ivar as her captor that was never going to happen. Truthfully, Maerinn knew that she might never see Ireland or Brion or Da ever again. She had known that much to be true for months. However she held out hope that Guy of Gisburn would not treat her with the brutality of Ivar the Boneless. He might expect her to share his bed and to serve him as any other servant but given how she had seen him treat his people, Guy was not capable of the barbarity that Ivar was capable of. There was little other hope that her life would improve if Guy could not convince Ivar to sell her.

Maerinn was so lost in her own thoughts of worry when Guy returned that she nearly had a heart attack.

"It is done," Guy said as he entered the room. He leaned against the wardrobe cabinet with his arms across his chest. "It took three hundred twenty seven coins and a bit of acting on my part but it is done. You are no longer under the ownership of Ivar the Boneless."

"Now I am...yours?" she asked. It had been too much to hope that he would grant her freedom.

He nodded uncomfortably. "When we are not in this room you are to play the part of my wife. You will sit with me at meals and have the manners of a lady, and I will teach you the english language."

"And when we are in this room?" she asked worriedly.

Guy sighed. "I can not sleep in that chair for days on end, nor on the floor. If I were to bring in other bedding Ivar would hear of it. We will share the bed but I will not touch you."

Though Maerinn was relieved at his statement she was confused about why he would offer such a thing. She wanted to ask why he would pay so many coins for her and not take what other men would take. It was not because he was a god-fearing man. He had already renounced Christ. She had seen him make toasts to Odin at feasts. Her confusion must have shown on her face.

"You are wondering why I would buy you and not do with you as Ivar intended?" Guy said as more of a statement than a question.

"Yes. I am still unsure what you plan to do with me or why." Maerinn tried not to let her worry show in her tone but it was there nonetheless.

"I've already told you the weakness in the walls and if you wished to escape me, the Danes might think it a great joke on me and would probably let you go. I don't want you to run off. I want you to stay and when the time is right allow me to return you home. You'll fare better returning home with an escort than trying to make the journey alone and I hope to be rewarded for my efforts. That is why I will not touch you and I will not harm you. I don't want to give you cause to run away or for your clan to believe that I have harmed you when I return you to them."

"So I am to be ransomed to my father, that is why you bought me," she said, understanding.

"Tis better than slavery as a concubine, is it not?" Guy pointed out.

"It is," she admitted. Some part of her wanted to thank him for his kindness but she could not bring herself to thank the man who had just purchased her, not even if he was planning to sell her back to her family.

"Then we are agreed. You will not try to run off and you will remain under my protection until such time as I am able to bring you home?"

Maerinn let out a sigh. "It will be as you say."

"Good," Guy uncrossed his arms and stood up straight rather than leaning against the wardrobe. "There are dresses fit for a lady in that chest over there. I imagine they will fit. Wear what you like of them." With that he strode out of the room.

Maerinn hugged herself and fought back her tears as he left. Ivar would no longer be using her body. He would no longer be humiliating her with his demands of servitude. She wouldn't be hungry or poorly dressed. Those parts of her life might finally be over. She was by no means safe. This place was still full of Danes and Guy of Gisburn was still a man and hardly different from other men in that he was capable of hurting her as other men had done. But maybe given the circumstances it served him better for him to treat her with kindness. And maybe for a little while she could at least sleep through the nights unharmed. She was exceedingly grateful for the possibility.

Maerinn went to the chest of dressed that Guy had offered to share with her. She opened it up and found several well made dresses of well made fabrics. They were not the dresses of a queen or even of a wealthy lady but those of a lady with moderate means. She didn't have to ask where they had come from. She had heard Guy tell the Danes the previous night that he used to have a wife. Then in the bottom of the chest she found a collection of baby clothes. These would have belonged to the child he never had. Somehow the sight of these infant gowns set her to tears again. She grabbed a dress of pale blue for herself, got to her feet, and slammed the chest shut, effectively ending her tears before they had truly begun. She would dress and she would face this day and whatever came with it.


	5. Chapter 5

"A word with you Robyn?" The lord king Edmund called out to Robyn late one afternoon when the room was clear of lords and nobles who had come with business matters.

Robyn left his guard post and approached his king. "Yes lord?" He said, his head bowed just slightly.

"You have served me well for nearly ten years. I think it is time you were rewarded for your service."

"I ask no reward of you lord. It is my honor to to serve," Robyn gave as reply.

"Well, I wish to reward you all the same with a wife and lands in Nottingham."

"You do me great honor lord but lands and a wife will mean that I am bound to them rather than to you," Robyn protested. He didn't want to be a farmer. He wanted to be a soldier. Farm life would bore him to tears he was sure of that.

"And your lands will be bound to mine. Do me this service Robyn and once your wife is with child I will send you off to fight the Danes in some glorious battle. That is what you wish, is it not?"

"You know me too well, lord," Robyn said with a small smile.

"Lady Aeldreth will be here in a fortnight. I am told she is a kind and courteous lady and that she plays the lute."

"Is there anything else you can tell me of her, lord?" Robyn asked hopefully.

"I am told she is rather lovely in appearance," the king smiled. "Brown of hair and eyes and of medium stature for a woman. You will like her Robyn of that I am sure."

"I hope so my lord and I appreciate your great kindness," Robyn stated and king nodded his dismissal.

Robyn fled the room and went back to his chambers in the King's house. He shut the door to his room a little too harshly. He didn't want a wife. He liked women well enough. He had spent a night with a willing woman on occasion just as all the yeoman had. A wife though was another thing entirely. A wife would mean he was obligated to go home.

For the eighth day in a row Maerinn awoke in the bed of Guy of Gisburn. He had kept his word and had not touched her, at least not while awake. In sleep he had rolled closer to her once or twice and put an arm around her. By morning he was always back to his own side of the bed again. The bed was not overly large though and on this morning as other mornings Maerinn awoke nestled rather close to his side. She realized for the first time that she did not want to leave his side. Not that she wanted to stay with him forever in favor of going home but she did like the idea of spending a little more time in this bed with him and doing something other than sleeping. It surprised her a little that she could desire any man like that after what Ivar had done to her. Yet looking at him now she could not deny that it might be comforting to be with a man who could treat her gently like Aiden once had in the early months of their marriage.

She didn't like to think of Aiden. She didn't like to think of him because she had loved him once. No, truthfully she had never stopped loving him right up until the end but he had stopped loving her years ago. Aiden had only invited her to his bed during the times when Bridget was too heavy with child or too recently delivered of children and even then it was simply a deed done to meet his needs with no consideration of hers anymore. Not like it had been in the beginning. After everything she had been through it irked her to admit that she could want anything any man had to offer and yet the desire would not leave her.

Guy awoke after she did as usual but unlike the other times when she had moved to her own side of the bed before he woke, this time she stayed pressed against him.

"Maerinn?" he said her name with more emotion than usual and reached over to let his hand rest on her shoulder. He was wise enough to know that she had remained this close to him for a reason.

"I know you said you would not touch me," she told him, braving her way through the word. "But if you changed your mind I wouldn't object."

Guy searched her eyes for a moment and an emotion crossed his features that she could not interpret. "If I did that, I wouldn't have it in me to take you home. I would likely come to care for you in time and you'd never see your clan again. That can't be what you want." he told her gently and then before she could reply he tossed aside the covers and left the bed.

Maerinn got out of bed and went to the door before he could change and leave. She felt herself flushing red as he changed out of his clothes with his back mostly to her. "What are you doing there?" he asked her, noticing from the corner of his eye that she blocked the doorway. "If you think you can keep me from leaving, you are mistaken."

"You promised I would remain unharmed," she argued.

"I can remove you from a doorway without harming you."

"Without touching me?"

Guy turned to face her, shirtless and tunic in hand and saw her flushed reaction to his state of dress. He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that would prove challenging….which is why you've placed yourself there...isn't it?"

"It might be," she admitted, still flustered.

He thought about her words for a moment, no doubt calculating his next move as was his way. Maerinn waited for him to make his decision. Finally, he approached where she stood, still shirtless, tunic still in his hand. "Hold this," he told her, passing her the tunic.

Once the tunic as in her hands, he stepped closer, close enough to press her back to the door with the weight of his body and he kissed her. The kiss was unexpected but not the least bit unwelcome. All too soon he was pulling away from her and tugged the tunic from out of her hands and slipped it over his head.

"Step aside from the doorway," he said a little huskily, "Or I will never do that again."

Breathless, Maerinn moved aside as he asked and watched him walk away until he was out of sight.


	6. Chapter 6

Aeldreth was not at all what Robyn thought she would be. He had imagined a perfect but boring lady. She was neither of those things. She was an adventurous sort of woman who did well in the company of animals. She was fearless on horseback and had experience with the training of hounds and managing a rookery. And she met his sharp with wit of her own every time. After a month of marriage to her he realized that he actually did want to go home sometimes. After two months he found that he didn't want to return to the daily service of his liege. The days standing guard seemed longer than ever when he knew that Aeldreth was waiting for him at home.

Aeldreth was heavy with child when they got word that the Danes were gathering a great army. Everyone knew that this could only mean that they meant to conquer their lands rather than just raid them. There had been more and more Danes setting in the area in recent years and they apparently wanted to set up settlements and colonies. Robyn was heavily involved in planning the defense for his king. This was their home. They would cast out the Danes and keep their lands.

It was late in the night when the cry was sounded. The Danes had arrived in Nottingham. Robyn left the bed of his pregnant wife, took up his bow and his sword and went out to join the rest of the men at the fence because a fence surrounded by a water filled trench was all their small village had for defences.

"They'll be here within the hour. What do we do Robyn?" the lad he knew as Will asked him at the place where all the men had begun to gather.

Robyn was at a loss. They didn't have the means to defend this place. He didn't answer Will right away.

"Got any ideas Robyn on how to fend them off?" Tuck asked, joining them just then.

Why was everyone expecting him to know what to do? He had defended castles before or met soldiers in the field but never before had it been on him to meet an enemy with so few defenses and with the lives of his own friends and family on the line.

"Look, those are their torches in the distance!" Will called out.

Robyn tried to count the torches in the distance. They numbered in the hundreds. They had no chance. It would be simpler if they had castle walls as a vantage point for the archers to pick off the Danes. If they had walls and gates they might have a chance but they way things were looked grim. Hopeless.

An idea hit Robyn and he turned to Tuck almost desperately. "Is the ale for your trip tomorrow already loaded on the cart?"

"It's is but Robyn this is no time for ale," Tuck replied in confusion.

"Bring it here at once! Trust me!" He told Tuck them turned to Will. "How high can you climb Will?" He pointed to the trees near the trenches. "I want all the archers in the trees!"

The men who had gathered scrambled to obey him whilst Tuck arrived with the cart. "What am I to do with this?" Tuck asked anxiously.

"Unload it at the gate. I'll help," Robyn told him and the two made haste to unload the barrels of ale at the place where the flimsy wooden gates needed reinforcements.

There were some thirty or forty archers in the trees and another thirty men on the ground. It wasn't enough to defeat so many but they had to try. They had to.

It was yet another night of feasting with the Danes and Guy was doing his best to tolerate and participate as usual. Maerinn sat at his side wearing a purple dress that had once belonged to Gisela and keeping quiet as usual. She had been quiet for weeks and had only spoken to him when absolutely necessary. He understood why. It was because of the pillows he kept in the bed between them. It was because of the fact that he had not kissed her again since that one morning when he'd made the mistake of letting her get close.

It had been a mistake to kiss her. At least that's what he kept telling himself. Instead he had focused his energy on the harvest and the repairs to the walls and had given over Maerinn to the training of Ida the Nun. The Christian woman was able to teach Maerinn both English and the art of being a lady. He had no idea how well Maerinn's education was even coming along simply because she barely spoke to him. She did still look at him though. Sometimes she looked at him like she hated him, like he had murdered all her hopes and broken her heart. Other times she looked at him like Gisela used to, like she adored him. He couldn't have her look at him like that. He couldn't. Hence the pillows that he had placed in the center of the bed.

The meal ended and Guy left the table to head to bed with Maerinn at his side. As was their routine, she entered the room first and changed while he sat on a chair outside the door and removed his boots. By the time he entered the room she was curled up under the blankets with her head covered and he would change his own clothing and climb into bed. Except on this night when he entered the room she was changed into a night gown but she wasn't under the covers. Instead she stood next to the bed waiting.

"Is something amiss?" he asked when she made no move to get into bed. He was afraid she would try again to gain his affections and he would be forced to reject her in earnest this time. The truth was simple but harsh. He was a prisoner as much as she was. He did not have the means to protect her and he could not risk having to protect both her and a child. He would simply have to tell her the truth.

"I heard something today," she told him in english. "I heard one of them say that they are gathering a great army and it is almost ready."

That wasn't what he had expected her to say. "I know," he told her, having heard the Danes speak of it himself. "That was the reason Ivar left months ago. To lead this army. They have taken many villages already. There is nothing we can do about it."

"There's something else," She said as if she were steeling herself to tell him terrible news. "Ragnar is leaving in the morning to join his brother. He says they will gather for the winter at a place called Nottingham. He says that you are to go with him."

"What?" Guy stumbled back at this news. "For what purpose? Surely they have enough hostages already…"

She shook her head. "They are saying that the young men there fled like cowards and are hiding in the forest somewhere. The hostages are old men and women and children. Ragnar says that he will be too busy helping Ivan plan an invasion to be bothered with ruling a bunch Saxon peasants. He says you are good at ruling Saxon peasants he is giving you that job."

"He wants me to be his puppet ruler," Guy said. "I won't do it."

Maerinn looked rather worried at his declaration. "What will they do you if you refuse?" she asked.

Guy let out a breath, crestfallen. "They won't do it to me. They'll do it to someone else. We need to leave this place tonight."

She nodded her agreement and set to work gathering what supplies she could for their journey.


End file.
